Macross Avalon
by FraserMage
Summary: A Chance encounter with the Macross 22 Fleet results in Galactica's fleet encountering the Thirteenth Tribe. But what are these fighters turning into giant Cylons?
1. Prologue Rest Stop

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Battlestar Galactica. I do not own Macross. They are owned by their respective owners. I do no make any money from this story.

**Uncharted System (Designated Respite) - Planetary Orbit - March 5th 2055 AD - 1330 Hours, Zulu time.**

"Spectre 9, Implacable. Requesting take off clearance from forward deck to join CAP" Reported Lieutenant Alistair Virtowal as he taxied his VF-19C Excalibur variable fighter along the deck of the Uraga-class Carrier Implacable. Looking out the cockpit of his fighter, Alistair gazes down at the planet the Macross 22 fleet is orbiting. Desolate hellhole he decided, damn place was only habitable near the equator and even then barely. The Marines liked the place a lot though after being cooped up on their ships and the colony fleet for the last 2 and half years.

"Implacable, Spectre 9. Clearance granted to launch via catapult 7. Rest of Spectre third flight will launch 30 seconds after you." Squawked the immediate response from Implacable flight operations. Manoeuvring his Excalibur Alistair attached it to catapult 7 preparing to launch his fighter without the need to expend reaction mass.

Bracing himself Alistair flinched as his Excalibur was launched via catapult off of the Implacable and began accelerating to join the CAP over the fleet. "Shameful. We have over 60 ships and yet we only have 12 fighters out here covering 10 million people. Pathetic" Alistair muttered to himself as he looked down to that miserable hellhole. Cold as a lot of planets around the equator as most are near the poles and yet the Marines seem to love the place. Only reason we are sticking around here rather then moving on is because it is the first habitable world we have found in 2 years Alistair thought to himself.

"Marine exercises. We have weakened our CAP for Marine exercises. Urgh" Alistair remarked and then realised his radio was set to transmit. "Spectre 9, what are you on about now. Its not like anyone could find us out here and I will let you know my younger brother is down there in an exercise at the moment." Squawked the voice of Shadow 1 the current CAP leader. Looking over his shoulder Alistair spotted out the profile of Shadow 1's VF-17S Nightmare against the outline of the planet.

"Sorry Sir. Didn't realise I was transmitting, won't happen again sir." Alistair quickly apologised to his superior. "Either way, doesn't seem to be anything around here, Requesting permission to head around and check in orbit on the other side of the planet."

"Granted Spectre 9, doesn't seem to be anything here and don't transmit like that again either" Shadow Leader said as he began to manoeuvre around to align himself to the correct course. Alistair followed suit and followed Shadow Leader in his manoeuvre. Of course if he had waited only another 5 seconds he would have been able to detect the ship that appeared in a flash of light at the edge of visual sensor range. Right inside the nebula cloud Respite system resided inside.


	2. Chapter 1 We are in the Wrong Place!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Battlestar Galactica. I do not own Macross. They are owned by their respective owners. I do no make any money from this story.

**Colonial Raptor, Search and Rescue Mission to Caprica**

_-Jump-_

"This doesn't look right" Lieutenant Margaret "Racetrack" Edmondson muttered to herself as she realised they were in the wrong place.

They had just completed the first in a series of jumps that would have taken them back to the twelve colonies, specifically Caprica in an attempt to rescue a group of resistance fighters from the surface and return to the fleet. Yet they appeared to be in the wrong place, given the lack of the rest of the Raptors.

"No other contacts on DRAD... contacts. Multiple contacts, estimate numbers at eight zero plus or higher" Skulls, Racetrack's ECO said in a tone that indicated complete shock. He quickly began checking his instruments as Racetrack manoeuvred the ship around to get a visual ID on the DRADIS contacts.

What they saw shocked them. A twin tail vessel with a length of over 100 kilometres mostly all domed with a formation of ships in escort formation. The largest of the domes was huge and had what appeared to be a warship docked to the front of it and two sections of domed modules heading out behind it. It was truly amazing in sheer scale and the number of ships nearby.

"Hey, get the camera up. I want to take some close in pictures of them and shut that DRADIS off. We are giving away our position." Racetrack quickly ordered as she marvelled at the sheer size of the ship. As the camera zoomed in she rapidly realised inside the domes were what looked like a city "What the frak? A city in space? Who are these people?"

"Hey Racetrack, You see that ship around 3 klicks above the main dome? It looks like a mobile repair yard... except that ship in there seems to be in construction. Frak, that thing is the size of one of our Battlestars. Much larger then anything else these guys have" Skulls quickly said in shock as he looked through the recon camera.

"Lords of Kobol, they've got a mobile shipyard?" Racetrack exclaimed in shock. "There is another two" Skulls said in complete disbelief as he pointed them out. "Who are the frak are these people?" Racetrack muttered as shock set in.

**UNS Kestrel - Respite Orbit - ****March 5th 2055 AD - 1344 Hours, Zulu time.**

"Report!" Ordered Commander Leonard Morresy as he walked onto the bridge of the UNS Kestrel, a Northampton-class Stealth Frigate and member of the 7th Frigate Group of Macross 22's defensive fleet.

"Spectre Squadron's third flight just launched off of the Implacable to take the place of Wardog second flight who we recovered. One of the fighter defence missile arrays has gone offline; engineering crews are repairing it now. Apparently there was a short in the wiring. Not much else, sir." Came the report of Lt Commander Alexander Rush the XO of the Kestrel.

"That is odd... for a moment then I thought we just got pinged with something. Looked like RADAR for a second before it disappeared; Wrong frequency though." Spoke the voice of Leon Grayson, the Kestrel's head sensor operator. Known throughout the Macross 22 fleet for his skill in sensor operating almost as much for his skill in brawling which is why he is still a senior grade lieutenant aboard a frigate like the Kestrel.

Leonard turned around to see him hard at work adjusting his sensor instruments analysing the signal. "So what do you think Leon? Was it a radar ping?" He asked while wondering what could possibly be out there until deciding it is probably rogue Zentredi if anything.

"Sir, requestion permission to go active radar full power along the vector the emissions came from. My instruments say it is probably a natural phenomena but I don't agree." Leon requested while Commander Leonard thought about it before replying "Go ahead, I am as curious as you are".

"Going active radar on max power, standby" Leon reported as he began the radar pulse. Time to tell everyone in range we are here he thought to himself as he waited for the readings. The readings which suddenly had his attention. "Captain, contact along vector. Small and probably semi-stealth. I don't know where it came from, no fold signature. Its drives are not active, no drive plume."

"Communications transmit all data on this to Battle 22. Tactical, warm up weapons. Flight operations, begin launch of the ready five." Commander Leonard ordered as he began to think out what to do next. "Tactical, set us to action stations and have the rest of our fighters loaded for launch." There, I am probably going to get chewed out by the brass for this but nothing I can do about it he thought.

"Captain we can probably get a better idea of the bogey if three or four more ships go to full power on their radar. Multiple angles and such." Leon quickly added while Alexander Rush talked over the intercom "Action Stations, Action Stations. This is not a drill. This is not a drill."

-----

**1346 Hours, Zulu.**

"Action Stations, Action Stations. This is not a drill. This is not a drill." Blared over the intercom as Sergeant William Robinson ran to the armoury to collect his equipment in order to report to his assigned location. He quickly donned his body armour and picked up his equipment and weapons. "Mike One here. Equipped and ready for action." He reported to command as the rest of his squad finished loading themselves out. Members of the UN Marine Corps assigned to the Kestrel Sergeant Robinson and his men saw little action and were confused by the rapid call to Action Stations.

"Well Men. The Skipper has saw fit to declare Action Stations. I don't know what we might be fighting but we have to be prepared for the possibility for enemy troops boarding the Kestrel, An act we won't permit on our watch. Watch each others backs and make sure your equipment is working; you don't want a faulty seal if we have a hull breach. Alpha team on me, Bravo team to the engine room and Charlie team to fire control." He shouted as the Marines organised themselves into their Fireteam.

"Ok Alpha team. We are heading for the flight deck, if anyone is going to board us it is likely they will enter via the flight deck." He ordered as they moved through the corridors towards the flight deck. As they walked into the observation post over the flight deck they saw the Ready Five consisting of Wardog Squadron's first flight being loaded into the launch catapult. "Wardog 1 Launching" Squawked the voice of Wardog Leader, Lt Bartlett from the speakers in the observation post.

"Looks like this is legit" William muttered to himself as he wondered what the hell was going on.

------

**Colonial Raptor. 8 Minutes after arrival.**

"Ah frak. We shouldn't have done that second DRADIS sweep, they know we are here. One of them just hit us with a DRADIS sweep" Skulls grimly reported as he looked down at the DRADIS console.

"Skulls. I think we should be leaving, spin up the FTL drive." Racetrack ordered as she realised they were in over their heads.

"Uh, right and yes they know we are here. That ship there, one of the small ones just went to action stations. All of her DRADIS sets just activated and she is squawking on wireless. Fools bet they are telling the rest of their fleet." Skulls said as he began the work of spinning up the FTL.

Two minutes go by and Racetrack annoyed by the lack of progress asks "What's the hold-up? Can we jump or not?" as she eyes all of their ships going active DRADIS along their vector.

"Well there is some good news and bad news. The NavCom is out of commission. Probably need to reboot it; it's what caused us to jump here in the first place." He replied.

"Let me guess. That is the good news right?" She replied fatalistically.

"Yeah. Bad news is that I think their CAP is vectoring for intercept. 12 fighters, barely reading them on DRADIS. And I think their carriers are getting ready to launch more." He reported as the Marines aboard realised their predicament.

"Ok. Begin the reboot. Maybe it might be done before their fighters intercept us." Racetrack replied however her tone of voice betrayed the fact she knew it was likely a futile gesture.

Another few minutes past as the unknown fighters continued to edge closer to their Raptor when their DRADIS reported first 4 contacts launching from the ship that detected them and suddenly more fighters launching from every ship in the fleet in front of them.

"There go their alert fighters. Those small ships which make the bulk of their fleet launched 4 of them each. The larger version scrambled 8 and their carriers launched between 12 and 16 each. That gives us estimated 300 plus more fighters. Frak that is a lot." Skulls reported as he continued to work on DRADIS when suddenly they received a transmission on the wireless.


End file.
